Back To The Wall (Destiny Worm Post-GM Ward)
by PseudoSim
Summary: The house of cards that is The City has finally fallen. Portals have been seized, shut, or torn open by the clash of powers to smash together buildings into uninhabitable ruins. With their backs to the wall, the choice is made to take a way out only the besieged defenders can take. Is it a good idea? No, but does that matter when a crusade is hammering at the gates?(WorkingSummary)
1. Chapter 1

Back To The Wall (Destiny / Worm / Ward [Post-GM])

#01: Arrival 01.01

A/N: This is a combination of Evil Atlas fault for getting me into playing Destiny, the regrettably slow pace of writing and editing C'est La Vie making me frustrated, and the fact that editing 20k words for Critical Mass burned me out when several scenes just didn't click. So I came up with this. Because hey, what's _another _fic to work on but a learning experience. And of course, while I blame Atlas for turning me onto Destiny a while back, well, making me think of it and downloading it on steam when I saw it was Free To Play. That said, as usual I have to thank him for checking over the late-stage draft as well as discussing the setting.

Hope ya'll enjoy something new.

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Perched on the twisted remnants of a colony ship gantry arm overlooking the old world Cosmodrome, he contemplated the brightly lit, once hulk ridden land which had been the Mothyards. Where once the hulks of the aircraft had lain, stripped of all but their rusting hulls, portals from sizes large enough for a jumpship to fly through to as small as doorways allowed streams of refugees and vehicles laden down with supplies and wounded to pour through.

It was from his vantage point that he was able to watch as what was left of a people abandoned their homeworld for the second time in nearly as many years.

Interspersed among the crowds were men and women in blue that he _thought _were law enforcement personal, helping to keep the peace and provide familiar forms of authority. However, that was all they really were, familiar faces to these people. With his commanding view, however, he was able to see it was really the multitude of drones and Fallen under her banner that were keeping the operation flowing smoothly. Wielding traffic control glow-batons, the four-armed aliens directed the myriad of vehicles being diverted to the motor pools for temporary holding while the refugees were guided to the impromptu intake queues or taken to a steadily growing area set aside for triage.

It was a very neat and orderly affair, as much as an evacuation could be, and though the personal here had some experience with receiving refugees they had faced nothing on this scale. No one had, but they were coping. It was, unfortunately, the fortunate byproduct of war having advanced plans well beyond original projections, with the readily salvageable metal of the ancient aircraft reclaimed for reconstruction efforts and the land leveled then put to use as a vast staging area put to use far too often only the surface of what had come about out of necessity. However, the ordered nature of what was happening only made the bloody nature of the conflict they were fleeing all the more apparent.

His chest tightened a little as guilt welled within him; he should have been down there, helping with triage or liaising, or anything just to be _useful_. But that had to wait, as for the time being more could be done up here than down there.

A small part of him also bemoaned that it would have been comfortable down there, even with everything going on. As high up as he had needed to climb to reach a spot with a good view and signal, it was rather windy, and thus with the sun having long set it was _cold_; it was making him long for his comfortable church tower and having a tea kettle on hand to stave off the ache in his bones.

_"-Well. That, uh, that is a whole lotta' people. I see why you called me on this channel. And our little terror is at the center of this? How's she doing after her little disappearing act?-"_

The synthesized voice in his ear was as flippant as usual, but the observer had become familiar with the robotic man and picking up the undercurrent of seriousness.

Blowing into cupped hands, Devrim rubbed them together to try and get some warmth back into the stiff digits. "Believe it or not, your wayward Hunter actually seems to be in a pretty good mood, all things considered. Here, take a listen," he said, and reaching up to his ear he flicked a switch linking his comm to the tripod-mounted micro-camera and receiver that was aimed at a bubble of space kept clear of refugees by a cordon of Fallen.

The line turned on with a crackle of static, then clarified to catch the two mid-conversation.

The taller of the two, a Hunter in a blue and white poncho and dark undersuit gesticulated wildly at the other. "—been three years Lisa! _Three years!_ I'm gone for three years and thought everyone would be rebuilding, that society would have stabilized at the very least, but _no. _Instead you drag me back just as the world's gone to shit!"

"I don't—"

"No!" Cutting off the other woman the Hunter turned and her hands pushed her hood back to free a mass of long, curly black hair. "No excuses! You and Sierra and all the others ambushed me with what was going on so I didn't ask then. But now we're here and I can't go anywhere or _Valkyrie _will lose her connection to this Earth. So, until the evacuation is over, you're going to stay here and explain to me why the hell everything I tried to save from Scion is being destroyed by a fucking _holy_ _crusade!"_

Choking out a pain-filled laugh the blonde looked to the sky. "It _was _going well, for a while at least. You were gone for good, but I managed to keep everyone together and then everything just… started falling apart."

'_Lisa,_' he thought, '_that was a familiar name she'd spoken fondly of._' Out of consideration for the friends' reunion, he shut off the audio channel with another flick. The receiver continued recording for later review of course, though for now he would give them their time to work out their problems.

Amused chuckling preceded the man on the other end of the transmission. _"-You're right, she does seem to be in good form today. It almost makes me happy to be stuck here at the Tower.-"_

"As amusing as her tearing into someone can be, it's the people she's bringing through those portals that I'm calling about."

"_-Yeah, I can see 'em. What about them?-_"

"Take a good look. How many of the Militia can you spot down there?" When the line remained silent for an extended he felt his point had been made. "Yes, not many. That's why I'm calling. She's having her human personnel working triage with frames so she had to assign the Fallen to keeping things organized— we're that tight. Then on top of that, there are as many people as we saw show up at the Farm during the entire Red War. The Cosmodrome _isn't _the Farm, their arrival won't go unnoticed for long; with all these people here there's going to be an uptick in hostile activity. With how she's treated the local Fallen that she hasn't recruited or driven out, I get the feeling that it's going to be more than the detachment of Outland Militia is capable of handling, even with whatever support these newcomers can bring to the table."

_"-That so? Even though she… wait, wait, I'm sorry, I think there was some interference there because I could have _sworn_ that you were requesting official assistance. You sure you wanna do that? Because if I send official support then you know—-"_

"That Zavala may just use it as an excuse to come down himself and that will blow up into a whole mess for sure._ I know_."

_"-Why Devrim, it's almost as if you can read my mind… so tell me straight, is the situation really that bad as it looks?-"_

Looking down at the sea of people and knew the answer. "Yes. As soon as she got back she sent almost half of her outriders through those portals, whoever was willing to volunteer— and that's in addition to a whole mess of drones she sent through. She offered a few months of doubled Ether rations for whoever went, so as you'd expect she got quite a few volunteers. From what I've gathered they've been assisting with a delaying action on the other side. I think it's making a difference, but… I don't think many of them will be coming back."

Devrim paused to sigh and the line was silent as he looked down on the ever-growing mass of humanity.

He _knew _calling in help would cause problems, maybe even give elements of the Consensus an excuse to step in. With so many lives at risk, however… Even the modifications made to the vast interior of the Wall to make it habitable( for refugees of the Red Ward(?) weren't going to be sufficient. Simply managing everyone was going to be a draw on personnel who otherwise would've been out patrolling.

"Right now I'd put us at less than half strength and thousands of refugees have come through with no sign of slowing. I can't say she made the wrong call, and this place can probably handle the people she's got coming through, but only if given the time to unpack the stockpiles. We're going to need a bit of breathing room."

_"-Hm. I can't help but not that you're including yourself among them. Should I not tell Suraya? Do you think she'll be jealous?-"_

The tone was teasing, but there was an undercurrent to it that had him closing his eyes and cursing himself for the slip of the tongue. "I can't in good conscience leave until this place settles down, can I? Wouldn't be right."

While a flimsy excuse, but the truth, he knew it wasn't the kind anyone would question if they were listening in. The issue of split loyalties shouldn't have been a problem, not after all that had happened, after so much had been lost. There were greater things at stake than ideological disagreement, but with Zavala making comments about her setting herself up as a Warlord of old... It made things difficult at times, increasingly so with how the little lady had been pillaging increasing amounts of the Red Legion's war material and training up the civilians in her care to expand the Outrider Militia. It certainly hadn't helped matters that Lord Shaxx, a man notorious for being the last living Warlord of the Dark Age, had given her Outland Militia project a public endorsement.

_"-I understand, thanks for reporting on this, these movements correlate with reports about suspicious activity around the Cosmodrome Outpost. I'll see who's available and send 'em."_

At the Exo's formalized vernacular and use of the settlement's official designation Devrim recognized that the Hunter was putting his request for help onto the mission boards; the formality for posterity, in case anyone checked the logs. The subterfuge had become an unfortunate necessity of late. Tension bled from him and he leaned back against the cold metal and sighed. "Understood, thank you Vanguard."

_"-Why whatever do you mean? I, a humble Hunter with centuries of experience shooting bad guys in the face am simply performing my duly appointed duty as Vanguard whose elected purpose in life is to sit on their shiny metal ass and give out missions, by giving out missions. Of course, if a blue someone does happen to find out… I may just have to resign from my post. I'll be broken up about it, honest.-"_

The rapid shift in the man was jarring to him, like a switch being flipped, but that was the man he'd grown familiar with and just like that they were back on their secure channel. "Nicely put, Cayde, nicely put. I don't suppose it would be too much for some supplies to find their way here as well? There are an awful lot of wounded among the people she's bringing through. "

The earbud buzzed with the sound of a poorly transmitted synthesized hum._ "-That'll be a bit more difficult, but I think I can swing it. There's actually a good surplus of medical supplies since production was kept up a bit longer than necessary. I may have to get others involved to get the stuff to you though.-" _

"Then that's just how it has to be. Again, you have my thanks."

_"-Hey now, don't be thanking me for only doing right by her. She took the Cosmodrome and held it against all comers while absorbing half the Fallen that tried to kick her out; that's let us focus our efforts elsewhere. And when the City was lost she opened her doors for everyone she could, even with all the problems that caused her. Such an upstanding Hunter, just thinking of her brings a tear to my eye…-" _There was an audible clink he suspected was Cayde wiping away an imaginary tear._ "She's earned all the help she can get... if she ever bothered to ask for it, of course. Now you call me and say that not-so-little place of hers needs a helping hand... well, if a little support an' some supplies are what's needed to keep it operational then you aren't going to hear anything from me.-"_

"Still. All these people, they aren't going to be like those in the city, and everything she's been stealing from the Red Legion— it's going to to further Zavala's argument."

A barking laugh stabbed into his ear. _"-Allow me to let you in on a little secret. You know how she kept getting into trouble? After she'd been reprimanded for the fifth time over something or another she was called in and the others asked some questions: why was she X, why was she Y, and on and on. You know, the sort of stuff she did back then, so I imagine you can get an idea of how that went. Eventually, she just got tired and recounted what she'd been able to remember about her past, to explain why she was the way she was; context, you know. I forgot a lot of it but her story was like something out of a nightmare that kept getting worse, so that went well. I guess in retrospect it's our fault for not believing her, she had proof after all… Although I think Zavala may have started believing her after she started collecting Fallen, getting back to her roots— and of course the fact she could still control her drones after everyone lost their Light. That probably did it.-"_

He grunted, it was all that could be said on the subject without the discussion broaching into the theological and theoretical physics.

Down below, the fluid movement of something big at one of the portals caught his eye. Bringing up his binoculars he watched a quadrupedal beast covered in off-white armor plating. Beside it a figure in a yellow coat appeared, directing the beast as it pulled a sled made of crudely cut timbers and scrap metal that had been piled high with wounded and cages full of dogs. Three more similar creatures followed close behind, each with their own litters.

It was a contrasting image that drew his eye and the sight of the beasts pulled at a memory. "I suspect she told me a similar story, but she may have sanitized it a bit. Marc and I had thought she'd had a mental break before she died and it was difficult for her to differentiate between fact and fiction. It happens to soldiers sometimes; shock, trauma. Details from her story could be substituted with others well enough that seemed the logical explanation."

"-_That… is actually a better explanation than the one we came up with: We just thought she was crazy.-"_

"Except some of what I'm seeing matches up well with some of what she told me about her past."

"_-Yes... I can tell you now, the fact that she was telling the truth is going to go over as well as a fuel depot on fire. I'll try to bring Ikora and Suraya in on what's happening before Zavala gets word. Maybe together we can beat some sense into skull and keep things from exploding. Take care of yourself out there Devrim, Cayde-6 Out.-"_

The transmission cut, and breathing a sigh of relief he sat forward to look down at the refugees.

Things were going to change because of this. What had happened, _was happening_, wasn't going to stay secret and _would _draw attention. People were eventually going to come and ask questions, he knew. He wondered if she would she have held off requesting help to put that off for as long as she could. Maybe, but he thought she would have eventually. Devrim wanted to think that maybe she could have called it in herself as soon as she could, she had been getting better at that.

From his vantage point he began taking notes to follow up on whatever drew his eye; strange things, dangerous things, and more... so much more. Having something ready to go would help when people eventually started asking questions. Watching the goings on below, he filled entire pages in his tablet until activity at one of the portals drew his attention. Or rather, the increasing _lack _of activity.

As he monitored it the flow of people passing through the portal slowed to a trickle, then ceased entirely. For almost a minute, no one else came through and his mind began concocting reasons the evacuation could have been interrupted, until a convoy of vehicles rolled through, lasting for several minutes before being immediately followed up by a large group of Humans, Fallen, and drones. It was the last Shank coming through that saw the portal folding up like a piece of paper and vanishing.

Then the process reversed and another portal took its place. The angle it was oriented made seeing through to the other side difficult, but he was able to glimpse enough to recognize the terrain as more of what he had seen through another of the portals.

He wondered if that meant they were down one evacuation point. If that was the case, then that left only eleven more to go and the fewer there were the faster people could evacuate.

Surveying the openings his attention was quickly caught once more, this time on a heavy truck passing through one of the larger, busier portals; except instead of cargo or wounded its long bed area held only a cargo container with transparent walls plastered with yellow signs. Stuffed with esoteric equipment and machines, it had only a single occupant; what appeared to be a small, blond-haired girl working within.

Peering through his binoculars he was able to make out that it _was _a young girl. However, it was in taking a closer look that he was also able to recognize a number of the Golden Age signs he'd learned to steer clear of.

"Biocontamination?" _But what was the biohazard_, he wondered. _The girl, or whatever she was working on?_

Tracking the vehicle, he followed along as it was diverted from the others and instead directed by a squad of silver Frames riding single-occupant hovercraft of matching color.

His eyes narrowed as he tracked it, turning in place to follow the vehicle's path as it wound through to one of the areas that had been restored to relatively pristine condition. "The array?"

Left with that mystery turning over in the back of his mind, he returned his attention to the portals to find that while his attention had been diverted another three had been shut down and reopened. As with the previous portal they now led to the same location and people were still coming through without slowing. The drones keeping watch suddenly converging on a fight drew his eye in time to see the troublemakers rise into the air, raised up on flat teal planes, force fields, and watched as five more planes appeared to imprison them in cubes energy. There was none of the accompanying technology he was familiar with, however, and as he examined the fields a tall woman in a skin-fitting suit colored the same light blue as the force fields rose above the crowd.

Powers, far more varied than those bestowed by the Traveler's light, but gained at terrible cost. '_A dream revealed to be a nightmare_,' he had thought when being told about them.

He panned back through the sea of people and settled on the beasts, on a hooded figure pulling a cargo trailer all on their own, and to a variety of other unique powers casually demonstrated. Eventually, his eyes wandered back to the spot of calm among the crowds. He smiled at the sight of the renegade Hunter, now no longer alone with the blonde woman, pulling another woman with a shock of red hair into a hug. "Guess the little girl was telling the truth after all."

His mind was so occupied by the 'for better or for worse' that he'd left unsaid that he didn't notice he wasn't alone. A warbling burble cut through the wind and he jumped. Holding his chest and breathing hard Devrim turned to glare at the drone painted in the blue and white of the Militia's colors. Clusters of lenses set into two rows on both sides of the drone's faceplate focused on him as he shook his head at it.

"What're you doing girl, trying to scare an old man to death?"

The Fallen Shank simply burbled at him and he snorted. "Right. So you sent a drone that didn't have the speaker installed, is that it little lady? A likely excuse."

In lieu of responding, one of its underslung manipulators rose to proffer a battered green thermos. A bit of scrap paper adhered to the dented metal simply stated: _'Thanks'_.

His lips pulled into a slight smile and he accepted the container. '_Little sneak_,' he thought, and smiled as he stared at the incomplete circle brushstroke symbol of her Open Circle House painted between the lenses; a convenient place to look when speaking with the drones. "I just did what needed being done. Regardless of what you may think of it, the Traveler chose you to be a Guardian for a reason. You help people, but sometimes you need someone to help you."

Burbling again, the drone bobbed in an approximation of a nod and dropped off the side of the gantry to return to assisting the refugees below.

For a time he simply cradled the thermos, feeling the faint warmth radiating from within. It was a little like the girl, in that way; battered, worn down, but full of warmth beneath the hard exterior.

She was a good girl that one. Good, but odd.

Palming the cup he unscrewed the thermos and set about pouring himself a cuppa, breathing in the aroma of the special blend only she knew how to make; it was bound to keep him up for hours.

He paused mid-sip and swallowed as the steam tickled his nose.

"Odd." That she was, and it was a simple way to describe her while being polite about her faults.

Then again, if even part of what she recounted experiencing in her first life was accurate, was it any wonder she was the way she was? Cayde had once told him she kept being dealt a bad hand. Having spent as much time as he had working with her, and liaising for her, he knew it wasn't an _entirely _accurate assessment of her.

Continuing the man's idiom it was more accurate to say she just didn't know how to fold, that she just kept playing the hand she was given regardless of the predictable outcome.

Looking down on the thousands of refugees from her homeworld, it was hard to argue that she didn't go all-in when she could have chosen another option. But perhaps, someone that stood their ground regardless of what they were facing off against was just what was needed.

(◈)

So that's that. I'm trying a few new things with this when it comes to writing in general, the third person POV being one of them. So if you'd kindly, let me know what you thought and I hope to see what you think in the comments.


	2. Chapter 2

Back To The Wall (Destiny / Worm [Post-GM])

#01: Arrival 01.02 The Gentleman Intermediary

A/N: This got away from me a bit. Had to cut it up and restitch it. Trim the fat. Unfortunately, as usual I had to pick two out of three and the third sure as hell wasn't it. But I think I made it work, enjoy.

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Standing at the outpost's small kitchen sink, he watched through the window as a dark grey and mottled red Hawk transport emerged from over the forest to come in for a landing. A steady beeping from the outposts small command console telling him the anti-air systems had a targeting lock, but he ignored it; the transponder codes having already checked out on the craft's initial approach.

And so he watched the modified VTOL craft bank at the edge of the clearing and decelerate, momentarily disappearing from view as passed overhead, then its thrusters pivoted downward and it came to a stop, hovering above the center of the clearing. It held for a few moments until the landing gear extended from the fuselage and thrusters and it descended onto a circle of raised ground among the grass; the area having been cleared, raised, compacted, and salted for such a purpose.

_'That's the first.'_

Motion within the cockpit told him the pilot was going through shut down procedures when an angled blur of dark orange against the leaden clouds overhead momentarily drew his eye away.

_'And there was the second.'_

He looked back to the landing pad in time to catch the distinctive blue static of a transmat arrival, and at the edge of the landing pad, a man in a dark, hooded cape with a pair of vertical red stripes now stood. Distance made it difficult to make out much more, but when they turned to the descending ramp he caught the side profile of an angled horn extending from the hood and a too sharp jawline. An Exo, and a small red object appeared alongside him in a burst of blue static. '_A Ghost_,' he recognized, '_which makes him a Guardian, as if the hooded cape wasn't distinctive enough._'

At the top of the ramp a slight, feminine shaped figure came into view. His gaze shifted to them. '_And where there is one Guardian, there are more_.

Dressed in comparatively understated attire, however, she'd have blended in with any given crowd. With her plain grey pants and unadorned white greaves, all-weather poncho of dark greys and mottled reds with its hood pushed back to reveal the face of a young woman with long, curly black hair, there was little that made her stand out. However, it was a visor covering the upper half of her face that made her stand out to him; in particular, four faintly reflective spots on the grey front which brought to mind the two, offset pairs of eyes of a Fallen had.

Descending the ramp to join the Exo Guardian her head swept back and forth, gaze settling on a spot to the right of the clearing he could have sworn was the location of his supposedly _shielded _shooting hide that overlooked the clearing.

_'Definitely something more than fancy than simple eye protection,_' he decided.

Absently shutting off the faucet, his hands went through the familiar motions of lidding the kettle and setting it out on the stove to boil. He didn't look away from the two though, and the still distant Exo must have seen him, raising a hand in greeting when he turned and began making his way across the clearing.

Grabbing a towel he dried his hands and turned away after the young woman had thrown the front of her poncho over one shoulder, like a cape, and followed. The unannounced arrival was just going to bring trouble, he knew, but what mattered was that they were here and who was he to be a poor host to two Guardians. Oh no, Marc would've had his hide if the man ever found out that he'd been rude to such guests.

Tidying up as much as he could in the short time he had he wiped down the counter, shut and threw a rug over the hatch leading down into the section of pre-collapse bunker that he'd opened when the sensor net detected the Guardians craft and gathered up dirty clothing left about to put it into the hamper. However, too soon for his liking a knocking at the door announced the arrival of the Guardians.

Sighing, he pulled the bed covers straight and crossed to the door. As soon as he opened the door, the greeting he had in mind vanished as he saw the sharp lines of the blue-painted face, white forehead plate and black horn; a recognizable face for someone in his position.

Cayde-6, The Hunter Vanguard blinked, electric blue eyes shuttering twice. He stared back for a moment, then lowered a fist raised to knock again. "Devrim Kay?" Orange light lit the hollow 'cheeks' of within the hollow 'cheeks' of the Vanguards' mechanical face from within as he spoke. "You _are _Devrim Kay with the City Militia, right?"

"...Yes?"

"Ha!" Rather than responding the Exo turned to reveal the young woman standing behind him and rapped a knuckle on a now exposed chest plate. "See, I told ya' we'd find him."

Devrims' attention shifted to the figure, what was definitely a young woman, her visor now pushed up and resting on the top of her head like a wide hairband to reveal large, expressive brown eyes that had trained onto the Vanguard. A wide-mouth turned down at the corners. "The only reason we were able to find this place is that the treasure hunters wanted you to leave their chickens alone."

'_Young_,' was the first impression that came to mind, but how she stood, her bearing, _definitely _a Guardian— a Hunter like the Vanguard if the wood grip of the hand cannon he could just make out at the small of her back as she turned was any indication.

The Vanguard brushed off her scathing retort with a dismissive gesture. "Yeah, well, the fourth times the charm."

She said nothing, only staring at him, but at the silent decrimation the Exo clutched at his chest and gasped in mock anguish. Clearing his throat Devrim drew the two's attention back to him. "Was there something you needed on this fine day?"

Eyes glowing electric blue looked past him, over his shoulder to the inside of the cabin. "Well… yes, there was something, but now that I'm here—"

The whistling of the kettle from the kitchen cut the man off. _'Just on time.' _Affixing a smile Devrim stepped aside to beckon them in. "Whatever it is, why don't we talk about it over some tea?"

\\(◈)/

Moving to what made for the outposts 'sitting room', Devrim sat across from his guests as they settled onto a sofa with mismatched upholstery. A low table separated them upon which he set out the three cups and kettle and the space lit by the low power overhead lighting and light from outside shining through the window set behind them. It was a warm space, comfortable, but it had been put together as a personal space rather than a place for receiving guests.

Sitting on the sofa across from him, it was as if the two Guardians were practically a pair of Fallen in a kebab bistro. Awkward, to say the least. Although, of the two, the young woman leaned back with her tea and seemed to get comfortable— if withdrawing into herself and going distant.

"This is a very nice outpost you have out here," the Exo began without warning and the comment hung in the air.

Beside him, the young woman made a sound that seemed suspiciously like a laugh but which she covered up with a cough and sipped from her cup.

The sound of clinking ceramic was all there was for a few moments. "I suppose it is more of a cabin than the standard militia outpost."

The Guardian wasn't wrong about it being an outpost though, at least in theory. The issue was that so few of his scouts ever ventured out so far, and those that did more often than not had their own little nooks hidden away.

Technically, a militia outpost _was _what the building had been intended as, and it was equipped to serve that purpose with an uplink to the FOTC satellite network. However, in reality, while it _did _serve that purpose on occasion, the outpost had ultimately become his and Marcs by them being the only ones that used it on a semi-regular basis. The outpost had become where they could retreat to when living in the City became a bit too much— or if Suraya wanted to visit them for dinner.

"Don't get me wrong, ain't nothin' wrong with that making it comfortable. Personally I think the Tower can get a bit too stuffy. It's a very fine cabin you have here. _Cozy_."

The human of the two was now staring at her superior and an awkward silence fell over them once more.

Devrim sighed. _'We're going to get nowhere at this rate.'_

Leaning forward he regretfully set his cup onto its saucer. "Alright, how about you just tell me what you want instead of dancing around with the pleasantries. As honored as I am to have a pair of guests such as yourselves, you mentioned coming out here for something?" Looking between the two his gaze settled onto the Exo. "And as far as I know Vanguards are supposed to stay in the Tower to assist with operations, so with that in mind…" Waving a hand at the table he sat back. "The floor is open."

Exchanging a look the young woman shrugged. "This was your idea."

While she sat back with her tea the Exo clapped his hands onto his knees with a muffled clank of metal. "Right. Straight to business." He jabbed a thumb at the young woman. "I'm looking for someone who'd be willing to serve as an intermediary for this one and tower operations."

For a second he was reminded of another girl— woman now —who'd been in lockup with a similar expression after being brought in for fighting. Although, now that he was thinking back, it wasn't the same; Suraya had been disaffected, _angry_, whereas this young woman just came off as... detached from what was happening, _tired._

"You'll get a stipend of course," the Exo continued, drawing Devrims attention back, and without stopping to breathe the mechanical person began elaborating on all sorts of benefits; offering everything from guns and glimmer to a ream of coupons to various restaurants and shops throughout the City.

It was all very appealing, in a material sense, but he was no rube and listened to the salesman tactics with only half an ear as his mind shifted focus to the initial request.

For someone not graced with the Travelers Light to serve work with a Guardian wasn't an _uncommon _occurrence, he knew of at least a few that had done so in the past, but not common either. Such a thing was considered a tremendous privilege and honor, a great responsibility, but approaching him as they were... it was _unusual _so far he was aware, and to serve as an _intermediary?_

The Guardians had their own support staff, personal with proper training, multiple layers of support staff. '_So why she isn't using the services available, why is he offering so much and coming all the way out here...'_

"Why me?"

Stopping mid-pitch, the Vanguard looked up from the image of a rather nice rifle displayed on a small tablet he'd pulled out of his vest. "Why you?" The tablet spun in his hand, dropped down, and for a few seconds he tapped a corner against the table before setting it face down. He sat back a bit, resting his elbows on his knees and hands folding together. He was quiet for a few seconds more, eyes looking at things unseen before inclining his head to the younger Guardian.

"I'm here because you aren't connected to the tower and this one has been problems. She's fine operating on her own, most of the time, but she attracts trouble like she's magnetic. Whenever she comes back to the tower there's always something that happens. This last time…" Letting out a weary sigh the Exo scratched the back of his head. "Let's just say there's a reason Shaxx's broadcast of the days' top Crucible match was canceled the other day." The Exo raised a hand and let it fall in a gesture of helplessness.

Beside him, the young woman flushed slightly and again hid behind taking a sip of tea.

Looking between the two of them, it was clear enough that whatever had happened was uncomfortable to talk about or… _'Something they or the Tower doesn't want getting out? Both?'_

"Anyway, I got in touch with a guy who knew some guys and eventually I was given a few names to follow up on. You're the only the third person on the list we've been able to talk to that hasn't turned me down outright."

"I don't know, I think I feel a little insulted to have been last so I just _may_. Whoever gave you my name clearly should have put me at the top of the list. Who else did you visit," he asked, curious who would have ranked to be put on the same list as him.

"Oh, a few scoundrels, a couple of treasure hunters, a dashing space cowboy and a crime novelist of surprising depth. The list was made on short notice."

He paused in the middle of reaching for his cup. "I _see. _To think a Vanguard would associate with people of such ill repute as _novelists_." Devrim shook his head and took a sip from his cup while said Vanguard choked out a laugh. "So tell me what it is this arrangement would entail. Specifically."

Sitting forward, the Exo flipped the tablet, woke it with a tap and flicked through menus to open a text file. Spinning the device, he slid it across the table and Devrim found the file a rough approximation of a job advertisement.

"It's all there."

He dragged a finger up the screen to skim the summarized requirements of each role involved while the Exo continued.

"But in short, the duties the job would entail are in two parts. What I need and what she needs. With her being _persona-non-grata_ from the tower for the foreseeable future, I need someone I can communicate missions and intel to while she's out of comms range; someone to relay reports back my way and the other way around."

Devrim looked up from the document to look across the table at the Vanguard. "So, strike command?"

"Something like that, yeah. Shouldn't be too often, just when I'm unavailable or she's operating in your neck of the woods."

"I _see_... Yes, I don't foresee any issues with that, I already perform that sort of role on a regular basis with my scouts. It would just be a minor adjustment I believe." He turned his attention to the young woman who had raised her cup following the Vanguards response. "And what about you? What do you need out of this arrangement? Miss..."

For a brief moment, she looked back without seeing him before her eyes focused, finally drawn out, and raising her mug before she took a slow, considering sip.

"It's Taylor. And thank you for the tea. Black with mint?"

His mouth pulled into a genuine smile. "Oh? A woman of refined taste I see. Why yes, it is. We grow the Mentha right here, helps to keep the bugs away in summer when snowmelt floods the field."

She nodded, "It's a good blend. I'll make sure to get you some of my own that I've been making." Then taking another sip she lowered the cup and glanced at the Exo before facing him and sitting forward, cup held in both hands. "While I don't entirely agree that I need an intermediary, I'm not unaware of the effect my presence can have so the idea of having someone that can act as a go-between for me with the Tower isn't something I'd be averse to. The less I have to go into the City, the less trouble it is for everyone involved. You might get some questions if people notice you picking things up for me, but I doubt they will push too hard."

The Vanguard waved a hand dismissively. "People ain't going to make trouble with someone they don't know— the smart ones, anyhow. If there is any trouble I'll take care of it."

"So, for the most part, you'll simply be needing logistical support?" She nodded. "What about a place to stay? There are bunks down below if you need a place to rest and I'm sure the other militia outposts wouldn't have any issues with hosting you."

Head cocking, she gave him a quizzical look before the corner of her mouth pulled up in a slight smile. "I see now. You built this place atop a cold war era bunker. Clever."

Whatever the 'cold war' was, he didn't know, but she didn't elaborate and taking another sip she shook her head. "I appreciate the offer but there's no need for that. I've had my Dragonfly built out for me to live and work in it; it has all the amenities I need. All I need is a safe harbor until I've found somewhere to settle."

"Dragonfly?"

"Her hawk," the Vanguard provided.

Devrim hummed noncommittally and picking up his cup to take a sip he wondered again just what it was she had done. "Let's say that isn't an issue then. How long would you need? Months? A year?"

"Closer to weeks I suspect, two months at most. Once I find somewhere I'll be able to relocate without much trouble. A lot of the old world is still intact in Eastern Europe so I don't think it will take me long to find somewhere that hasn't been too badly wrecked."

_'Not wrong_,' he mused, nodding along before frowning.

While there _were _a great many places in the European Dead Zone that _could _be made habitable, especially for one as hardy as a Guardian, the Fallen had settled into most of them. Finding somewhere that wasn't already claimed, in not too bad condition, stable, securable… he knew it wasn't going to be as simple as she was making it out to be.

"Will you need help? I and my scouts have spent a lot of time in the places you're talking about and they aren't in the best condition you know."

She shook her head. "If it's being offered. I wouldn't turn down help finding someplace, you're no doubt more familiar with this part of Eurasia than I am, but if you were offering to help with fixing up the place I settle in then that won't be an issue for me."

"I see..." Devrim said, though knowing it sounded exactly opposite. '_But at the very least she seems to be reliably self-sufficient. Having her use the outpost as a basecamp for a bit wasn't going to be an issue. What managing what she would normally do when going to the City would actually entail though…'_

"What about doing other things for you? Your Hawk? If going to the Tower is such a problem will you be unable to take it in yourself? Will you need me to take it in for maintenance or anything of the sort? I am proud to be skilled in a great many things, but earing a piloting proficiency is not among them."

"That won't be an issue. I've had ruggedized systems installed and can handle the maintenance on most of the non-critical systems myself. For more complicated issues I have an annual maintenance schedule with some of Dead Orbit's junior techs', keeping it running shouldn't be a problem. I'm still on good terms with those at their facilities. I may well end up routing my cargo through them, they haven't gotten back to me on that yet, however."

"No, I imagine not," he said simply. His eye was drawn to the sitting area window behind the sofa, where the modified transport was just visible between the Vanguard and the young woman. Beneath the transports left-wing a pair of Frames painted in pale grey worked, their robotic arms deep within an open panel in the underbelly while another of the robots stood a short distance away, the red Ghost floating alongside. Bulkier and more armored than the other two, it sported similar colors to the Guardian and seemed to be speaking with the Ghost.

"The _Dragonfly_, you said it was called. An interesting name for a Hawk."

It was an absent comment, but beside her, the Vanguard shifted and familiarity with Exo expressions let him catch a momentary shift of frustration in his eyes and mouth. There was a story there. _'Part of why they are here, perhaps?'_

"No matter, so far none of what you've told me sounds too onerous, but what would be required of me when it comes to mission control? Give me an idea of the best and worst-case scenarios."

The two across from him exchanged a look and after a silent conversation passed between them the Exo sat forward.

Altogether, once he was done and the junior of the two added her piece, Devrim couldn't deny it was a fair deal— although it was curious that she would need so much assistance analyzing reconnaissance data.

But, ultimately, even with his current responsibilities, those he'd be taking on wouldn't have made his workload between the City and the EDZ overly burdensome. In any case, promises from the Exo to pull contacts within the FOTC and have him assigned a special on-call status would free him from much of the bureaucratic drudgery that could take up so much of his time.

It was a very neat proposal. Though a downside as that it would likely remove him from taking as much of an active role in the field as he was used to.

"What about those I trained up and work out here," he asked. "If I'm occupied working with you, will you be able to take bounties from me personally? Occasionally my scouts will come across something that needs to be taken care of on short notice. Would there any issues there?"

The Vanguard made to answer but Taylor beat him to it and shook her head. "Of course not, and there would be no need for bounties. Simple quid pro quo will suffice and I have no problem working with people who aren't Guardians. So long as I'm in the area I can come or will otherwise try and send assistance."

The tablet beeping interrupted him before he could respond and the Exo reached across the table to scoop up the device, glowing eyes widening when his thumb tapped at the screen. "Uh oh. Uh..." Looking between him and Taylor he stood. "Sorry, I have to take this. Why don't you two get to know each other while I deal with this." With a few long strides, he crossed the room and had the door open after several insistent beeps. "Zavala! Hey there, what are— Where am I? I'm at the Tower. Yeah. Totally. Would I lie to you? You shouldn't be so suspicious all the time..."

When the door swung shut and the conversation faded Devrim looked back to the other Guardian and took a long draught to drain the last of the tea from his cup. "Why don't we speak frankly. Before I agree to anything I have to know to know what it is I'm involving myself with. Be honest with me, what does a Guardian have to do to find themselves ostracized from the Tower? I take it there was something involving the Crucible?"

"The Crucible. Yes." Her eyes turned thoughtful. "I wanted to make a point about how Guardians operated, to demonstrate the inherent weaknesses in relying upon our Ghosts to resurrect us when we fuck up in the field. In retrospect, I wasn't as diplomatic with my argument as I could've been… then again, approaching Shaxx to get his input wasn't the best idea" She sighed. "But bad as that was, it was only the most recent issue and what brought things to a head. My not being welcome at the Tower has been growing for a while. Why though is a bit complicated, a bit of background knowledge on how someone becomes a Guardian is needed, so…" She quirked an eyebrow in question.

"I can't speak for others, but I've picked up a few things in my time. If there is anything I need clarification on, I'll ask."

"Okay..." Her wide mouth pressed into a thin line. "Well, in principle, when a Guardian is brought back to life by their Ghost their slate is cleared. Who they were remains, their personality and why their Ghost chose them, but not the memories of who they may have been or what they may have done in their past life."

"_In principle_," he echoed.

She nodded. "Yeah. Where a scarce few know anything of their past, I started remembering who I was as soon as my Ghost asked me what my name was. There were _four _that immediately came to me, each with little… _glimpses_, into the person behind them, each at different points in their— _my _—life. It was as if I was putting on a mask and becoming someone else with each one." She grimaced.

'_The effects of trauma,_' he wondered. That was his immediate suspicion that came to mind, and though he was no psychiatric doctor he knew such things were not uncommon. However, the mask comment… the effects of amnesia while she was alive? A personality disorder? A detail rose to prominence though. '_She's young, she couldn't have been out of her teens when she died, or barely just.' _"You don't have to talk about it if it's an uncomfortable subject."

Smiling slightly she took a sip from her cup. "It's fine. It isn't that talking about it is uncomfortable, on the contrary, I like talking to people about what I've remembered, it helps me put together pieces that haven't quite fit into place. Though, I usually reinterpret events into a story format since I mostly tell the stories to kids so…" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, getting back to the point at hand. Without getting into the technical details of someone being brought back from the dead, the prevailing idea regarding the memory erasure aspect is that the lack of prior connections allows the newly Risen to start anew as a light bearer. Well, with my Ghost having risen me an ocean and half a continent away from the City, I had a good long time to pick apart and internalize what I remembered along the way. Many of my memories are… ugly, but they made me who I am now and I refuse to run from my past or deny who I was. As would be expected, I haven't exactly tried to move on and that's a large part of why I have problems at the Tower. Also, differences of opinion in regards to many things haven't helped. I just see things differently."

It took him a second to process what she had said, understand it, but when he did one part, in particular, hit him like a brick. "Knowing about your past is considered a _problem_?"

Shifting in place she sat back, legs extending as if she was trying to sit on something different before re-settling. "Some, yes. Generally speaking, there are four categories of Guardian when it comes to them knowing I can remember my past: The jealous, the indifferent, the sympathetic, and the disdainful— it's the last that causes problems for me. Those ones tend to be rather opinionated about what a Guardian is supposed to be. Ultimately there are a number of intractable differences in opinion between myself and others that have developed since I've come to the Tower, which they blame on my regaining my past memories, so giving in to the temptation of wanting to know who I was..." She was still for a few moments, unnaturally so to even he, who had seen marksmen laying in wait for hours on end. She broke the stillness with a definitive tap to the side of the mug. "It's problematic. When I reached the Tower it just didn't occur to me that people in positions of authority would react so offensively."

She threw her head back and laughed, a bitter and slightly hysterical sound bursting from her mouth while her eyes looked into the distance. "That was a mistake. If I'd remembered a bit more of my past before that I might have avoided this mess but I didn't, not until the damage was done. These days, my standard response to someone asking would be to recount my Ghost's speculation my memories coming back have something to do with my bloody corpse not yet having cooled when I was Risen. Most can understand the desire to find out who killed them, the desire to to find out if I have family somewhere out in the world and so on." Raising the cup she lowered after a moment, grimacing as she looked into it.

"More?"

"Please, thank you."

As he poured, she propped her elbows onto her knees and her expression went distant. "That being said, if we're going to work together I'll be honest and tell you the truth if you want it. I don't care if you believe me, they didn't, I don't even think Cayde does despite helping me as much as he is. But if you want to know I'll tell you."

The last words were said in a near whisper, and looking down into her cup he could make out a look of confusion marring her features.

Devrim swallowed past a lump in his throat. She hadn't named names and avoided giving details, but the call and if the pressure was from someone high up and Cayde-6 was involved? There weren't many people she could be referring to, a handful at most. _'Would I be better off keeping things impersonal?' _Maybe, _probably_. But having a healthy working relationship... "What is the truth?"

Looking up she smiled but it was strained; pain and determination alike warring in the expression. "The truth is that I search for my past because the memories I'm haunted by are full of things that shouldn't be possible with little to explain them. The truth is that before I became a Guardian my name was Taylor Anne Hebert. I was born to Annette and Daniel Hebert on Eleventh of June, Nineteen Ninety-Five in the American city of Brockton Bay." She blinked and wetness glinted in her eyes, "And I can't stop trying to remember who I was, because I have to know why I needed to die."

\\(◈)/


End file.
